


On a columnar self (The middle of the mess I don't understand remix)

by rthstewart



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Multi, Post-Episode: s02e21-22 Twilight of the Apprentice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-10 06:08:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15943355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rthstewart/pseuds/rthstewart
Summary: Kanan and Anakin wear masks. Hera does, too, but it's not as obvious.





	On a columnar self (The middle of the mess I don't understand remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [darlingargents](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darlingargents/gifts).
  * Inspired by [all the words i once believed](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14997179) by [darlingargents](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darlingargents/pseuds/darlingargents). 



_It's not that I'm lost, I know exactly where I am_  
_I'm in the middle of a mess that I don't understand_  
_Why does it feel like the world's stealing every single thing that I have?_  
_I only got the air in my chest and even that won't last_

From _Helpless/Bloodlines Pt. I_ by Sir Sly

Title is from Emily Dickinson's poem, _On a Columnar Self_ ,

 _On a Columnar Self—_  
_How ample to rely_  
_In Tumult—or Extremity—_  
_How good the Certainty_

 _That Lever cannot pry—_  
_And Wedge cannot divide_  
_Conviction—That Granitic Base—_  
_Though None be on our Side—_

 _Suffice Us—for a Crowd—_  
_Ourself—and Rectitude—_  
_And that Assembly—not far off_  
_From furthest Spirit—God—_

* * *

Hera begins mourning their deaths the moment they cleared Atollon and jumped to Malachor. She understands why they had to do it. She also knows she won't see Kanan, Ahsoka, Chopper, the _Ghost_ or Ezra again.

Then they enter the long, hateful waiting game. She makes herself useful around Chopper Base. There is lots to do and the War doesn't stop just because she wants it to. She solders some broken hardware on the speeder bikes, repairs sensors the harsh desert conditions and krykna spiders broke, reviews garbled intelligence reports of possible defectors at Skystrike Academy, and talks to AP-5 about inventory management.

Sabine and Zeb know better than to try to distract her with false cheer and "it will be all fine" platitudes. Hera doesn't want lies, even if they might make her feel better.

As she wires, and re-wires, and re-wires again, a circuit panel on the pump that's drawing their fresh water, she sees Rex stalking by. They both exchange _the look_ and he moves on, surely in search of work similar to her own. Not that she's giving up this panel; this one is _hers_ and Rex can find his own distracting jobs. They aren't going to say anything for it all could make the losses come sooner. Rex is as close as he can come to afraid that after so many years, he's going to again lose Ahsoka, his dear friend and fellow warrior.

She will miss Ahsoka, too. For so long, it has been just her and Kanan alone, space mom and dad, so the joke went. Then Ahsoka joined them and filled a place she and Kanan had not known was empty. The three of them, together, were – _are_ her mind feebly insists – stronger, better, and the third chamber of the heart of Phoenix Squad and the _Ghost_.

_Kanan._

Her finger burns on a connection she forgets is live. The panel shorts out and she starts again.

Hera understands why some might choose not to love during war. War means death. But not loving means you die alone. The problem is that she's always thought she would be the one dying, not the one surviving.

Another tech tries to take the panel away from her – she is doing a slow job of it. Hera brandishes her soldering torch, snarls at the interloper, and defends her turf. If the galaxy is going to take everything else from her, she is going to keep the auxiliary pump wiring for herself.

She's managed to rehearse Kanan's eulogy three times without breaking down when the news finally comes. She's still not rewired the pump panel.

Sabine runs across the maintenance bay, calling her name. "Hera!  Ahsoka just commed! They're coming back."

Hera hears an alarm. _A medical alert._

"She says they need medical for two, one critical."

"Kanan?"

"Injured, badly, but not life threatening Ahsoka says."

Something isn't right in the way Sabine is speaking, so tightly, worried, and fast.

"Ezra?  Is Ezra hurt?"

Sabine shakes her head. "He's fine. She drops her voice. "Vader. Ahsoka is bringing Darth Vader back here."

 

* * *

Upon seeing Kanan and Ahsoka, Hera's heart heals and then breaks apart again.

Ahsoka is Fulcrum, has been Bail Organa's operative for years, is close to Mon Mothma, is her lover and her dear friend. But Ahsoka has endangered them all on the whim that maybe, underneath that black masked horror and sheer evil, her good Master, Anakin Skywalker can still be found.

It's the first time she wishes that Jedi actually _followed_ that "no attachments" rule.  If Vader kills them all, she supposes that at least she'll die with Kanan and Ahsoka, though Hera might kill Ahsoka first.

"Anakin is there, Hera. I can feel him. He's not Vader any more," Ahsoka nearly sobs as the med techs maneuver his unconscious hulk down the _Ghost_ ramp.

She sees he's heavily restrained, but is it enough? Is _anything_ enough?

Ahsoka has brought a huge security risk back from Malachor. Hera's not sure how they do it but Jedi know things through visions and dreams. Is Vader, right now, telling the Emperor where they are? Should they already be evacuating? But she can't deal with that now. She has to trust Ahsoka and hope that her love for whatever her old Master is now does not blind Ahsoka completely to their grave danger.

Sabine and Zeb are greeting Ezra, who looks angry and withdrawn. She gives him a quick embrace, and he slouches off. He doesn't seem to want company now and maybe she's wrong about that but she can't deal with Ezra now, either.

"What did Ahsoka mean?" Zeb asks, warily tracking the repulsor gurney Vader is strapped to. "Who's Anakin?"

She realizes suddenly that no one knows who else Darth Vader might be and that as dangerous as he is is to them, the possibility of someone not waiting for an explanation and just killing him outright is very real, and would be totally justified.

"Ahsoka should tell you," she tells Zeb. "But whoever she thinks he is now, you have to restrain him until we're sure. Be prepared to…" She doesn't finish the sentence and doesn't need to. He understands the risks, even if Ahsoka seems to have temporarily lost her mind.

"Don't worry, Hera," Zeb says, maybe too casually, but she is glad to hear someone sound confident in this mess. He follows the med techs with their loathsome gurney and they disappear into the hanger toward the rudimentary med facility they've not even unpacked yet.

Sabine's questions are in her sharp expression. "Anakin was a Jedi," Hera explains. She doesn't have time for this but has to say something. "Ahsoka knows him from when she was at the Temple, during the War."

"Wait, Anakin _Skywalker_?" Sabine hisses. "General Skywalker?! The one who…"

"Yes. And you probably have heard that Skywalker served with Rex, too."

She sees Sabine begin processing the enormity of this, re-examining everything she ever learned of the legends and lies of the Clone Wars and the Empire since.  Hera can't imagine how Rex will react to this once he knows the truth. Hells, even Kanan had been awed by Anakin Skywalker and he hadn't known him as Rex and Ahsoka had. There are years of history, trust and betrayal between Rex and Anakin she cannot possibly fathom and Hera can't deal with Rex now any more than she can deal with Ezra, Ahsoka and whatever, whoever it is now in the med bay.

Fortunately, Sabine understands immediately and is already moving just as Hera's comlink buzzes. "I'll take care of it, Hera. Ahsoka should tell him but this can't wait. Rex needs to know, _now._ "

The comlink again vibrates in her hand, vividly expressing the anxiety of the person behind it. "Captain Syndulla!"

 _That was fast._ She can't deal with Commander Sato now, either, but no one else can. "They've all returned, Commander. We're assessing the situation. Ahsoka has captured and restrained a high value prisoner."

"Who?"

She needs to see Kanan, _has_ to be with him, but she can't selfishly avoid this. Delay is the most honest compromise. "You'd best come planetside, Sir." Sato knows she's being evasive and probably blames the possibility that their comms could be hacked. Her breath hitches, having to acknowledge it. "Kanan is injured, Sir. I need to see him. I'll explain when you arrive."

And finally she can go to him. Kanan has been standing at the top of the _Ghost_ 's ramp, uncertain, with a white bandage wrapped around his eyes. He's stepping cautiously and there's no handrail, so he could pitch over the side. He pauses and looks up, right at her. He might say, "Hera," or merely think it, but in the Force, he can find her, can still _see_ her. She rushes forward and throws her arms around him, softly kissing his rough cheek just below the mask that now protects his blinded eyes.

* * *

Zeb, Sabine, and Rex share the guard duty over Anakin's unconscious body. Zeb assures her they've worked something out and, more importantly, they give Commander Sato the same promise, with enough specificity, that he stops yelling, which isn't something Sato _ever_ does. Hera suspects their collective solution involves explosives wired into the med couch Anakin-Vader is strapped to and a remote trigger.

Out of deference to Ahsoka, and probably to keep Bail Organa out of it, Sato agrees to take a wait-and-let's-not-kill-Vader-while-he's-still-unconscious. "If Anakin Skywalker has indeed returned, he will be an enormous asset to the Rebellion." Hera interprets this to mean that, given the possible benefits, Sato is satisfied that if Darth Vader suddenly wakes up, only a few people will die before they blow him up.  Sato is also, surely, considering in his calculation that General Skywalker could be more valuable than the surly, blinded, untrained Jedi who refuses to talk to anyone.

Hera thinks it is also Bail Organa who dispatches the very competent and oddly empathetic surgical droid to Chopper Base. Their cultured Galactic sounds straight out of the Alderaan royal house. Toomedone doesn't say why they meet in a sparse private office some distance from the medical suites where Anakin-Vader slumbers on. Perhaps they are too kindly to say that it is undesirable to kill so many members of Phoenix Squad if explosives are set off in the med bay to murder the patient there.

Hera is squeezed between Kanan and Ahsoka on a hard little bench, holding both their hands. Ahsoka grips her hand so tightly, it's beginning to ache, but Hera just returns the squeeze. It's strange that Kanan's hand feels so clammy. Toomedone's explanations for Anakin-Vader's conditions are in plain language but very technical.

The raw hope she hears in Ahsoka's voice is wrenching.  "What you're saying is that you can surgically restore Anakin's lungs to mostly functional capacity and repair most of the other damage with a few days in a bacta tank."

They don't have bacta to spare.

"He will need a modified mask to aid breathing but nothing so invasive as what he must wear to sustain him now.  And, of course, surgeries to implant prosthetics for his arms and legs," Toomedone adds.

They don't have extra prosthetics, either. Sato will have to approve it all. If Organa sent the royal family's personal physician, maybe he will pay for Vader's restoration to Anakin, too.

"He will never be quite the same again, but he will be much better." Toomedone pauses significantly. "His injuries are severe and old, yet I can think of no sound medical reason for not undertaking these curative measures much earlier."

"Unless the Emperor lied to him, made him believe he'd be trapped forever in the suit," Ahsoka says bitterly.

She releases Hera's hand so suddenly the blood rushing back into her fingers is painful. "Thank you. I should go back to him."

They wait until the door slides close behind her.  Hera gently squeezes Kanan's hand and moves closer to him.

"What about my eyes?" Kanan finally asks.

Toomedone's hesitation is so long, they both already know the answer. Kanan shifts away from her and withdraws his hand from hers.

"So you can regrow lungs and implant prosthetic arms and legs, but can't do anything for eyes." Kanan says, not questions.

"It is regrettably a significant gap in our current medical knowledge," Toomedone replies, achingly sympathetic.  "It is possible, in some instances, to return limited functionalities using adaptations from cloning tech…"

"No." Kanan stands so abruptly from their bench, Hera has to scramble to avoid sliding to the floor. He shoves the little side table Toomedone was using for the review of Anakin-Vader's scans and it tips over, then trips on the droid's foot.

"Kanan, love." She reaches out for him, but he shrugs her away and straightens the mask over his eyes.

"Not now, Hera. Chopper!"

Chop has been waiting outside. He beeps from the other side of the door and, as it slides open, Kanan turns his head toward the sound. Hera knows that he would want to stalk out in long, angry strides. Instead, he minces out tentatively, like a child learning to walk, using his hands for feel and balance, and follows Chopper's beeps and chirps out of the office.

She sits, helplessly, on the bench, fighting back embarrassing tears. Leaning down, she rights the little table, one thing, and apparently the only thing, she can fix. She's still sniffling when Toomedone thrusts a piece of cloth at her.

Hera wants to laugh at the improbable little square, a old-fashioned handkerchief.

"Something no med droid is ever without," they say.

She dabs her leaking eyes, not remembering when she last cried. Years. Probably something involving her father. It makes her nose stuffy, too. She gestures up at her nose. "May I?"

"Of course."

Blowing your nose makes an awful sound. "I'm sorry Kanan stepped on your foot."

"I am not a fragile organic life form, Captain, but thank you." Toomedone shifts in their seat with a whir of well-oiled joints.

"Captain Syndulla, I regret to say that at this time, you are likely one of the Galaxy's experts on close personal attachments with Jedi."

She looks up at the droid. "You know about Jedi?"

"The Emperor did not think to purge or corrupt every record pertaining to the Jedi. Medical libraries, which I accessed on my way here, contain much information regarding the care of Force users and use of the Force in treatment and healing."

Wild hope stirs within her. "Could Kanan…"

"No more than Anakin could regrow his own limbs or lungs."

She sinks again, deeper. Hope felt and destroyed is worse than no hope at all.

"However, there are thousands of well-documented reports of Force users -- not even Jedi -- accomplishing extraordinary things, including the ability to live ordinary, productive and fulfilling lives, with otherwise serious and even crippling impediments and injuries. In my view, supported by significant medical data, blindness is no obstacle whatsoever for a being well-attuned to the Force."

She thinks of Kanan stumbling around, literally and figuratively in the dark, with Chopper as his only guide. _No_ , she corrects herself. Chop is the _only_ guide Kanan is willing to accept.

"So a Jedi must heal himself?"

"Ultimately, yes. And Kana surely can do so if he exerts himself.  As for Ahsoka's devotion to her former Master, it is neither unusual nor atypical according to my own research."

"But what of the attachment prohibition?"

The sound Toomedone makes would be a snort in a human or near-human. "Recall that the Jedi spanned hundreds, even thousands, of different species. For some species, emotional and psychological non-involvement are very natural, indeed innate. For other species, such emotional detachment is so unnatural it would otherwise be classified medically as a pathology and attempting to enforce the prohibition would do immense harm to the individual. Though there are few records of Togruta Jedi, their physiology is not unlike human or Twi'lek. Ahsoka's devotion to her Master is what I would expect and is very consistent with documented medical literature."

She turns the now damp little handkerchief over in her hands. The two people she loves most she can't help. "I don't know what else I can do." She hadn't intended to speak the doubt aloud.

"In my professional opinion, you should continue what you have been doing, with one additional caveat."

She looks up at them.

"Attend to your own needs and care.

* * *

Hera trudges back to the _Ghost_ to wait for her family to return, even though they won't. There are always things to do and someone has to keep going amidst all the upheaval. She settles at the galley table and calls up again their recent intelligence reports about pilot cadets at Skystrike. Hondo Ohnaka has also been seen in the Imperial prison on Naraka and is purportedly offering to sell information about ships in exchange for extraction. Relishing in her lack of detachment, Hera savors the perfectly reasonable emotion of letting Hondo rot in jail. Her professionalism eventually wins out and she makes a report to Sato that using Hondo's intelligence to steal ships and smuggling pilot trainees from an Imperial academy to fly them is an operation for Phoenix to consider. She recommends Sato seek confirmation from Fulcrum.

The Ghost's proximity bell goes off. "I'm in the galley!"

Ahsoka rushes in. She's been crying and Hera wishes now she could offer a clean handkerchief instead of the wet, snotty one shoved in her flightsuit pocket.

"He's awake?"

Ahsoka nods and collapses on the bench. "He recognizes me. He remembers me. He's… he's Anakin again."

Hera moves closer, puts her arms around her lover, and lets Ahsoka weep out her relief. The flightsuit and handkerchief will be going in the fresher after this.

"He doesn't remember anything. Nothing since I left." She babbles about Obi-Wan Kenobi, Utapau, and Seppies then chokes back a sob. "He called me Snips."

For their own safety, she has to be more than the sympathetic mate. The Rebellion Captain has to ask, "So, he doesn't remember Darth Vader?" _Doesn't remember slaughtering thousands of beings and eradicating the Jedi like they were vermin?_

Ahsoka shakes her head. "All he remembers is being a Jedi and losing me."

So, Ahsoka had been right on Malachor when she did not kill Darth Vader and instead tried to save Anakin Skywalker. She wonders, though, if amnesia is a sufficient excuse.  She's not sure Darth Vader deserve forgiveness and costly restorative medical care they can't afford just because he doesn't remember murdering on a galactic scale.   That decision, Hera decides, is above her rank and grade.  She spares the slightly cynical thought that, though Sato's calculation has paid off, their Commander is now going to have pay up.

"Does that mean you want to go through with the restorative surgery?"

"Maybe?" Ahsoka's voice sounds very small.

"You should probably decide," Hera says. "And this is extreme and painful so you need to make sure he wants to."

Ahsoka nods. "I just…"

Hera tightens their embrace, encouraging Ahsoka to speak her fear.

"What if he remembers?"

"I think that's something you know best, Love. Would the Anakin Skywalker you knew choose to become Darth Vader if he knew everything he would do?"

Ahsoka shakes her head and the firmness in her voice is what Captain Syndulla needs to hear. "No."

"If he does remember, this time, you'll be with him, so maybe it won't happen as it did before." The Captain won't let her stop there because the risk is still there, just like the explosives strapped to Anakin's bed she's not yet going to order be removed. "But if he doesn't come back…"

Ahsoka inhales sharply but she nods her understanding. "Thank you, Hera."

Ahsoka loops her arms around her waist presses a kiss so careless, it misses her mouth entirely. Ahsoka has other places to be. She's going back to be with her former Master.

Hera wants Ahsoka to ask what Toomedone said about Kanan. She wants to talk to a Jedi – former Jedi – about how angry Kanan is and how to help him find the healing Force. She wants to tell Ahsoka how she desperately misses what the three of them had that seems further away even than before. Kanan has withdrawn and needs what she can't give and Ahsoka is returning to her Master. Hera now sleeps, when she sleeps, alone in their bunk, with only the company of Ahsoka and Kanan's lingering scents and the memory of their bodies twined together.

But she can't burden Ahsoka. Hera is alone and must bear this alone. So she smiles and returns the absent kiss. "Anything, love."

* * *

Hearing Anakin and Ahsoka spar is the worst possible thing for Kanan. He is hiding behind his mask and says nothing but Hera sees the rising anger in the set of his shoulders and his stony expression. Kanan doesn't offer any help when Anakin knocks himself unconscious and Toomedone is summoned to cart him away for rest.

As usual, Hera puts the consoling hand on Kanan's shoulder. As usual, Kanan brushes her off like a piece of lint and stalks away. He doesn't even seem to notice or care that he's far less tentative; he's getting much better at storming off when in a mood and not bumping into people or knocking things over.  He will go sulk in the desert again.  She _thinks_ she wants him to stay close to the sensors; she's not yet so hurt and angry that she wants spiders to eat him. 

With all the excitement of Ahsoka and Anakin's sparring over, everyone peels off, leaving Hera to clean up the mess in the _Ghost_ 's cargo bay and around the hangar. She shouldn't have to do it but this is one time she will let it slide. It's soothing to wipe down surfaces and see the metal shine again. Like righting a tipped over table and soldering loose fittings on a speeder bike, fixing up the _Ghost_ is something she can do.

The shrill peal alarming of a ship's unauthorized departure freezes her blood. Hera bolts out of the _Ghost.  S_ he knows from the sound of the engine firing that it's Ahsoka's shuttle. Everyone is blundering about, staring at the ship, wondering why Ahsoka's shuttle is triggering an alarm. But Hera can see from the way the shuttle swerves and surges out of the hangar that it's not Ahsoka piloting. She'd put a tracker on the ship, just in case, but there's no doubt in her mind that Darth Vader is going straight back to Coruscant and his Emperor.

There isn't time for curses and recrimination. She'll have it out with Ahsoka and Kanan later. Ahsoka's attachment and Kanan's indifference blinded them both, and the Rebellion may now fail, to the ruin of them all. She thumbs her comm. Maybe the _Liberator_ is close enough to intercept the ship and shoot it down. Commander Sato is already yelling at her on the other channel. They are going to have to evacuate, again, somewhere.

And then Ahsoka is running toward her, shouting and waving a flimsy. "Hera! Wait! It's from Anakin!"

"Hold," she orders into the comm. If there was even a chance to stop Vader, it is now gone

"Anakin's going back," Ahsoka breathes.

"Obviously," Hera retorts.

Ahsoka shoves a holopad at her. "Not Vader. _Anakin._ And he left us a gift."

Hera stares down at the impossibly enormous sum. Her mind cannot immediately process that many zeros. She finally manages to gasp, "This will fund the Rebellion for the next ten years."

"Oh, Hera, I don't think we'll be funding a Rebellion for that long. Skyguy's going back. But the mask will be for everyone else."

* * *

 

My thanks to Meto and Larm for the great assistance. Thank you by darlingargents for this wonderful AU prompt.


End file.
